


Never one to share

by S_Horne



Series: A May Medley [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Desk Sex, Established Relationship, Jealous Steve Rogers, M/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 17:38:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18761206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Horne/pseuds/S_Horne
Summary: “Of course, Sir,” Steve said into the phone, his heart thudding when Tony’s cheeks flushed. Well, that proved that theory. Time to use that to his advantage. “I will pass the message on as soon as – yes. Thank you, Sir, you too.”Steve placed the receiver down without breaking his eye contact with Tony.“That was Mr. Phillips from the board.”“I couldn’t give less of a shit,” Tony said, voice deliciously low. “I told you I’d never be able to concentrate if you were here.”“And I told you I’d make an excellent receptionist,” Steve countered, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his stomach.“Please go home.”Steve let his mouth fall open in faux-offence. “Mr. Stark, I couldn’t possibly. I was sent here to help you. To be completely at your disposal.”ORNational Receptionists’ Day





	Never one to share

**Author's Note:**

> Day Eight: _National Receptionists’ Day_
> 
> I am drunk and posting from mobile. Pls feel free to let me know if there are mistakes. 
> 
> I mean absolutely no offence to receptionists nor secretaries. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Views are from a jealous and insecure husband, not from the author xo

Steve was happy for Pepper. He really was. She deserved to have six months off – hell, she deserved the rest of her life off, though they all knew that was never going to happen. Steve couldn’t wait to go and visit her, to spoil her little baby until his heart was content.

The only problem with Pepper having those such well-deserved six months off was that Tony needed to hire new staff. Obviously, one person couldn’t be expected to do everything that Pepper had done, so he had employed a few different people to cover different aspects of the role.

One of those new hires was Christine Everhart.

Christine was lovely. Really, she was. Steve could admit that; couldn’t deny it, actually. She was also beautiful, clever, witty, unafraid to snap back and stand up to Tony, and obscenely good at her job. All in all, she was pretty perfect and Steve hated her. He hated that he hated her, but he did nonetheless.

Whilst he had no proof that she wanted to fuck his husband, most people did and Steve felt his hackles rise whenever he was around her. Steve wouldn’t have been surprised if she tried something with Tony, though he also didn’t want to find out if she had. He also had no proof that Christine was purposefully not putting him through when Steve rang Tony’s office, but it just seemed a bit suspect. It wasn’t often that Steve rang there and not Tony’s direct cell, —it wasn’t often that Tony was even in his office for Steve to ring that number — but all of a sudden Steve seemed to be leaving more and more messages with Miss. Everhart.

And he didn’t like that. 

“Good afternoon, Tony Stark’s office. Please hold.”

Steve tapped his foot against the perfectly tiled floor and tried to school his glare into something a little less murderous. Even without a mirror, he knew what his expression would look like. It wasn’t really his fault, though. Christine’s voice was rather grating after listening to it for thirty fucking minutes and she only seemed to be saying one sentence as she expertly juggled the ridiculously busy phone-lines. 

Had she even buzzed Tony through the intercom and told him that Steve was there? Steve hadn’t seen her do it  and he’d been staring at her quite intently as she answered emails one handedly, manicured nails tapping away at her keyboard. Sure, Tony was busy and pretty scatter-brained, especially on his office days, but he never kept Steve waiting if he could help it. The chances that Miss. Everhart was keeping him waiting on purpose seemed to be growing larger. 

“Good afternoon, Tony Stark’s office. Please hold.”

And yes, Steve was aware that he sounded like a spoiled child, but that’s just the way he felt about this threatening woman. He finally had Tony all to himself, had the shining ring to prove it as well, and he was damned if some college-grad with a bright smile and sharp wit was going to take him away.

 

//

 

Steve stacked the plates from the dining table and placed them down next to Tony at the sink. They’d had a lovely meal cooked by Steve — not as a way to prove that he was the best choice, thank you very much. He wasn’t that insecure. Well... 

“Thanks, babe,” Tony said distractedly. “Oh, I forgot to tell you! So this afternoon, Chrissie said–”

Steve nearly choked at Tony’s words, completely ignoring whatever came next.  _ Chrissie?  _ His brain seemed stuck on that. Of course, Tony and Christine shared the same workspace and were together for huge portions of the day, but  _ Chrissie?  _ Really?

It had taken Tony months to move to nicknaming Steve after they’d met – something that Steve wasn’t bitter about, per say. (It was just something that kept him up at night.) What was so special about  _ Chrissie  _ that she got a nickname so suddenly? They hadn’t known each other that long, after all. Why did she suddenly get such a personal nickname?

Steve shook off the negative thoughts and tried to stop himself from being so jealous. He had Tony, after all. He turned his attention back to Tony, focusing on what his husband was saying and how whatever it was made his face light up and his eyes dance.

“Why do you even need a secretary?”  _ Whoops,  _ Steve guessed those thoughts weren’t as shaken off as he wanted as he talked over Tony. 

Steve laughed when Tony’s hand slipped off the mug he was washing and it fell into the sink, sending a splash of soapy water up and over Tony’s shirt.

“She’s a receptionist,” Tony said, scowling down at his wet chest. “Not a secretary. Too many connotations with that word. Chrissie says it sounds far too much like we’re having an affair, for some reason. She’d rather be called a receptionist.”

“Ugh, whatever. I still don’t get it. You’re not even in the office that much,” Steve continued, leaning against the counter. “Could you not just have an automated diverter? Surely you can invent one of those?”

Tony squinted, reaching up to wipe water off his cheek with his forearm. “Personal touch, Steven. How could you even suggest that I got rid of the that last human touch?”

“Ah,” Steve murmured, sliding closer and kissing a droplet of water that Tony missed. “Of course. How stupid of me.”

 

//

 

“Seriously, though,” Steve said, blinking up at Tony with a soft pout. He wasn’t in the mood to let this go, not with Christine’s perfectly curled hair and kohl-rimmed eyes fresh in his mind. “You really don’t need her, surely?”

“Pepper spoilt you,” Tony laughed, carding his fingers through Steve’s hair. “She has a soft spot for you and always let your calls through. Chrissie was told to make me do my work – she’s only doing her job.”

Steve huffed, but he guessed he couldn’t really argue with that. He was struck with a sudden wave of genius and he reached up to grab at Tony’s wrist, shifting his head in Tony’s lap. 

“Why don’t I become your secretary?”

Tony’s eyebrows raised. “My secretary? You want to be my hot secretary?”

“Receptionist,” Steve corrected with a hot blush. He remembered Tony’s definitions and comments about connotations and willed his mind not to let himself conjure up an image of him being Tony’s secretary. 

Well, just thinking about Christine in his stead made that picture fly right away. With a dark glare, he continued. “I could be your  _ receptionist _ .”

“I would never get anything done,” Tony said, a fond smile on his lips and his fingers curling to cup Steve’s neck. “I’d never leave the office to get to the lab and even then, in my office, I would be too busy staring at you to do my work.”

“I’d be such a good receptionist,” Steve said to himself, releasing Tony’s wrist and letting the feeling of Tony’s fingers in his hair sending him off to sleep. “Better than Miss. Fucking. Everhart.”

 

//

 

Steve straightened the pad on the desk, reaching out to line up the pen pot with the new, neater edge. It wasn’t that Christine hadn’t kept the place neat, but it wasn’t quite to Steve’s liking. He’d tidied as much as he knew he could get away with, trying hard to ignore what he wasn’t allowed to touch. There were quite a lot of papers stacked in the letter trays on the edge of the desk, though Steve knew better than to go through those. He fiddled with organising the post-it notes by colour instead. 

When Christine had called in sick early that morning, Tony had been gutted. It was a day that Tony was meant to have be in the labs anyway, but then he’d gotten a sudden call about paperwork that had sent him to the office. He’d already been worried about being late, so Steve had quickly volunteered to sort out a temporary worker with an agency, if only to clear away the worry lines from Tony’s brow. Tony had rushed out of the door shouting something about calling Pepper as  _ she’ll know what to so, Steve, she always knows! _

Well, Steve hadn’t needed Pepper and he wasn’t about to let some other girl in a short skirt or a man in a far-too tight shirt fall over themselves to lean over Tony’s desk and wiggle their arses. 

Not when Steve could do it just as easily.

“Steve! What–”

Steve looked up from his computer to see Tony standing in the doorway to his office, frozen on the spot with his mouth hanging open.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark,” Steve said in a clear, crisp voice. “I’m afraid that Miss. Everhart needed to take a personal day today, but I have been sent as her placement. Please let me know if you have any special requests for me to adhere to.”

Steve didn’t miss the way that Tony’s pupils dilated as he focused on the tight shirt that Steve had chosen, or the flick of Tony’s tongue over his bottom lip at the sight of Steve’s neatly-fastened tie.

“You,  _ you’re _ my receptionist?” Tony stuttered out. 

“Told you I – oh. Please excuse me, Mr. Stark.” Steve held up one finger when the desk phone started to ring. “Good morning, Mr. Stark’s office.”

Feeling Tony’s eyes on him, Steve tried to keep the smirk off his face as he focused on the phone call. Though he had only been joking about taking over from Christine full-time, Steve had worked a summer as a receptionist for a large company when a teenager. He knew his way around a reception desk and his phone voice was spot on. 

“Of course, Sir. Mr. Stark is indisposed at the moment, but I – oh, no, of course. Absolutely not, Sir.”

Steve found it harder to keep the grin away when he noticed Tony’s eyes darkening even more with every word that he spoke. Deciding to test his theory, Steve licked his lips and met Tony’s gaze.

“Of course, Sir,” he said into the phone, his heart thudding when Tony’s cheeks flushed. Well, that proved that theory. Time to use that to his advantage. “I will pass the message on as soon as – yes. Thank you, Sir, you too.”

Steve placed the receiver down without breaking his eye contact with Tony.

“That was Mr. Phillips from the board.”

“I couldn’t give less of a shit,” Tony said, voice deliciously low. “I told you I’d never be able to concentrate if you were here.”

“And I told you I’d make an excellent receptionist,” Steve countered, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his stomach.

“Please go home.”

Steve let his mouth fall open in faux-offence. “Mr. Stark, I couldn’t possibly. I was sent here to help you. To be completely at your disposal.”

Tony swallowed thickly and Steve felt no guilt in letting his eyes sweep up and down the man’s body, grateful that the desk was letting him hide just how turned on he was already.

“I’m here to help you, Sir.”

 

//

 

The desk pad definitely wasn’t straight now, some part of Steve’s mind pointed out. In fact, the whole desk had been pushed out of its usual alignment with the carpet and everything on its surface had been knocked over. Pens were steadily rolling off onto the floor and the letter tray had long since fallen.

That was what tended to happen when someone was sprawled out on top of it.

“Fuck, Steve,” Tony said, words hoarse and sounding almost punched out of him as he was knocked back and forth. “There, oh,  _ fuck. _ ”

Tony threw his head back as his spine arched and Steve couldn’t resist the urge to trace Tony’s neck with his tongue.

“Like that, Mr. Stark?” Steve murmured as he kissed his way to Tony’s jaw. He poked his tongue out again and used the very tip to follow the curve of Tony’s ear.

“Yes.” Tony’s hands grabbled for purchase unsuccessfully as Steve snapped his hips forward again. “Right there, Steve. Right – oh, God.”

“Told you I could meet your needs,” Steve said lowly. One hand slid round to splay over Tony’s chest where his shirt was hanging open, fingers catching the edge of his nipples. “I’ve got you, Sir.”

As soon as that title left Steve’s lips, Tony let out a loud moan and his hole tightened around Steve’s cock. Steve’s eyes fell closed as he desperately tried to hold onto the last ounce of self-control that he had. He was doing this to prove a point, after all, and what point would be making if he came before Tony? No self-respecting receptionist put their own needs before that of their employer, after all. 

“Fuck, yes. Oh,  _ Sir _ . You feel so good. Am I helping you? Am I being the best receptionist you could need?”

Tony groaned again as he reached an arm back blindly, his fingers grabbing the air until he hit Steve.

“Yes, baby,” he moaned, nails digging into Steve’s side. His feet slid further apart when Steve pushed forward again and his head fell onto the desk.

At the new angle, Steve let out a groan of his own. His hand danced across Tony’s chest to feel the welts left by the desk, deep and already warm. They would be so red by the morning, he thought to himself, such a perfect reminder of what they had done. Steve snapped his hips forward again at an almost relentless pace, his rhythm starting to slip.

“God, I’m so deep, Sir. Can you feel me? Can you feel how deep I am now?”

Sweat was starting to drip down Steve’s neck, but if anything it just made him push harder. With every thrust, his suit trousers caught Tony’s and rubbed dirtily against his thighs. They hadn’t bothered to undress, with Steve only ripping open Tony’s shirt and pushing his trousers down just enough for access. It was deliciously taboo and the drag of the thick material was adding a layer of lust that Steve hadn’t experienced before. Tony seemed to agree as he made no effort to remove his clothing, eagerly pushing back to Steve’s thrusts and moaning wantonly.

The way that the desk was creaking would have been alarming to Steve had he not been so focused on Tony’s breathy pants.

“See, my darling?” he said, draping himself over Tony’s back so that he could whisper in his husband’s ear, “this is why you should have me sitting behind this desk every day.”

“Never,” Tony managed to croak out, resting his forehead against the dark grain as his fingers flexed and his legs shook. “I’d never get anything done.”

“Just think about it,” Steve continued, punctuating his words with a roll of his hips. “Every time you come out to greet a visitor or come over to talk to  _ Chrissie,  _ you’ll be reminded of the time I bent you over this desk and fucked you so hard you couldn’t give a shit who was to walk in and see you like this.”

It wasn’t true. Steve had already arranged with the doorman not to let anyone up as Steve wasn’t technically allowed to be working in such an office and greeting associates, and Tony wasn’t meant to be there anyway. It didn’t matter how true it was as the words had the desired effect: Tony let out an almost inhumane noise and jerked his hips back as Steve carried on dripping filth into his ears. 

“Yes, Sir. You want them to see, don’t you? You want them all to see what a fucking–,” Steve cut himself off when the phone suddenly rang. He jumped almost a foot in the air — causing a delicious yelp to leave Tony’s mouth — as his thrusts paused.

When Steve didn’t start moving again, Tony turned to look over his shoulder, his mouth open.

“You’re not,” he said, disbelief bleeding into his desperate tone. “You can’t be thinking about answering that.”

“Of course I am,” Steve said, lifting a hand to trace the swell of Tony’s bright red lips with his thumb. He took a moment to admire his husband’s beautiful face, the flush of his cheeks and the tears in his eyes, before he stretched his hand to hover over the receiver. “What kind of secretary would I be to let your calls go to voicemail?”

“Receptionist,” Tony panted out. “But you can’t! You’re–”

Steve rolled his eyes, the fingers of his other hand trailing up to press ever so lightly against Tony’s throat. “Personal touch, Sir. Where would we be without it?” Just before he picked up the phone, he craned his neck and pressed a kiss to the hollow of Tony’s throat. “And I think we’re  _ way  _ past receptionist now, sweetheart.”

“Steve, you can’t. You can’t expect me to—”

“Yes,” Steve said, tapping his fingers against Tony’s pulse point. “I do. I do expect you to stay quiet.”

With that, he curled his fingers around the handset and lifted the phone to his ear. “Good afternoon, Mr. Stark’s office.”

Tony whimpered and dropped his head forward, cheek hitting the cold wood. 

“Stay quiet,” Steve hissed, pressing another kiss to Tony’s cheek before he straightened up and brought forward his professional facade. “Good afternoon, Mr. Wilkes. Long time, no speak… oh, of course, Sir. Oh no, I’m only stepping in for the day.”

Steve laughed at the response, but his real focus was much more on the way that Tony was whining into the surface of the desk, his teeth biting down on his fingers in a desperate attempt to stay quiet. Though Steve was impressed at the effort Tony was putting into staying silent, he wasn’t sure he liked it. Time to up the ante, he thought silently. 

“Absolutely. No, I’ll be sure to tell him.” Steve curled his fingers around Tony’s throat as he spoke into the phone and squeezed ever so lightly. He quirked a grin at the sound that left Tony’s mouth and pushed his hips forward. “Oh, of course. No, no, I’ll be sure to — really?”

In an almost unconscious move, Steve stopped his movements to focus on the conversation coming through the phone. Tony let out a loud whimper at the pause and Steve’s smile fell. He threw his body forward again, pressing Tony’s chest into the desk as he blanketed him. 

“I thought I told you to be quiet,” Steve hissed into the shell of Tony’s ear, making sure that his mouth was far away from the phone as the caller prattled on. “Here I am trying to help you out and what are you giving me in return?”

“I’m sorry,” Tony said, words a huff of air into the desk-top and muffled around the digits in his mouth. “Fuck, Steve. Please. Please, I’m sorry.”

All of a sudden, Steve’s attention was snapped back to the phonecall and he straightened up again, a wide grin gracing his face at Tony’s muffled sob. “That’s right — no, abso- oh? Of course. Will do, Mr. Wilkes, thank you. And to you, Sir.” 

Steve grinned at the red flush on Tony’s cheek and the way that his finger was almost white with the strength of his bite. No harm in playing it up just that little bit more, he thought as he circled his hips, knowing his cock would be pressed right against Tony’s sweet spot. 

“Thank you, Sir. Yes, no doubt, Sir. Of — pardon? Oh, without a doubt. Thanks again. Goodbye,” Steve leant down and caught Tony’s ear lobe between his teeth for the shortest second before he finished his phone call with a final, “ _ Sir _ .”

Tony’s orgasm took Steve by surprise and the sudden tightness of his hole threw Steve over the edge without warning. Praying to God that Mr. Wilkes had disconnected the line, Steve let out a long and drawn out groan. It was vaguely recognisable as a garbled version of Tony’s name and Steve grabbed at Tony’s hips to draw them even closer together as he rode his high, hips jerking as he shot ropes of come deep inside of his husband’s body. 

It was a long time before either of them were able to gather enough brain strength to speak again. Though not quite up to moving, Steve mouthed at Tony’s neck, darkening an already-beautiful bruise there. 

“Fuck me,” Tony finally croaked out, his voice wonderfully hoarse from his cries.

“Hm, think I just did, doll.” Steve held Tony carefully as he pulled his softened cock out, wincing in sympathy at Tony’s hiss. He pressed a kiss to Tony’s cheek in compensation, falling back into the desk chair and ever so carefully pulling Tony down into his lap. 

“That was amazing,” Tony said, lolling bonelessly against Steve’s chest. “Best receptionist ever.”

Steve wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist, his hands automatically finding Tony’s. “Glad you think so,” he murmured into sweaty hair. “Because Christine is off for a week and I never did ring a temp agency.”

 

 

 


End file.
